ABOUT NEW YORK; The Changing Of the Guard At the Chelsea

By JIM DWYER

Published: June 20, 2007

Someone in the new management told Stanley Bard yesterday to stop hanging around the front desk of the Chelsea Hotel, which he has run for 50 years, more or less. He had come to work a bit later than his usual 5:30 a.m., but Mr. Bard, 73, does not have an actual job any more. He was shelved this week.

That Mr. Bard lingered in the hotel even yesterday suggested that the New York of $1,000-a-square-foot real estate has not quite completed the extinction of the city of funk.

Through some blend of temperament, shrewdness and soft-touch-edness, Mr. Bard made the Chelsea, a big pile on 23rd Street, into one of the best-known hotels in the world. That had nothing to do with the thread count of its sheets or the fragrance of its bath soaps.

''Billy Graham,'' he said.

Puzzled look.

''Not the evangelist,'' Mr. Bard said. ''The guy who started the Fillmore.''

Ah, Bill Graham, the rock concert promoter.

''Right. He told me, 'None of the other hotels will let these rock acts stay,' '' Mr. Bard said.

Some rolled through town and spent a few nights in the Chelsea; the Grateful Dead played on the roof. Others moved into the Chelsea's apartments, like Dee Dee Ramone, and stayed for months or years. In a torch song for his estranged wife, Sara, Bob Dylan recalled, ''Staying up for days in the Chelsea Hotel/Writing 'Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands' for you.''

Shirley Clarke, a pioneer in avant-garde film who challenged New York State's censorship laws, had a penthouse studio. Virgil Thomson was resident for years. Brendan Behan, O. Henry, Thomas Wolfe, Dylan Thomas, all had stops there. Arthur C. Clarke wrote ''2001: A Space Odyssey'' and Pete Hamill wrote the novel ''Snow in August'' in the Chelsea. The singer and composer Rufus Wainwright has been working on an opera. Along the stairway are the paintings of residents, including a Swedish surrealist, Hawk Alfredson. Riding the elevator is Nile Cynlo, who said she's a clothing designer whose creations appeared on ''Sex and the City.'' Her work improved when she moved into the Chelsea 18 years ago. ''Because of the regular heat, my fingers weren't stiff in the winter.''

''The Chelsea, whatever else it was, was a house of infinite toleration,'' Arthur Miller once wrote. After his marriage to Marilyn Monroe broke up, he moved to the Chelsea and wrote ''Incident at Vichy,'' and ''After the Fall.''

Comets flew and souls crashed on 23rd Street. Every dawn, Mr. Bard counted the open rooms. He started at the hotel in the 1950s, when his father and two partners owned it. Mr. Bard stayed, joined by his son, David. The heirs of the other partners kept out of the operations. Two years ago, a dispute over the ownership shares was decided by an arbitrator who ruled that Mr. Bard and his family control 58 percent of the economic value, but that for management purposes, the other heirs form the majority. They replaced Mr. Bard this week with a company that operates other hotels in Manhattan.

ONE of those heirs, David Elder, stepped into Mr. Bard's office to be sure a reporter heard another version of the history. His grandfather had been a partner with Mr. Bard's father.

''Stanley is the public face and has been for a long time,'' Mr. Elder said. ''It's in our families, too, but people don't know about us.'' Mr. Elder lives in California; the other shareholder aligned against Mr. Bard is Marlene Krauss, a doctor who runs a biotechnology venture capital firm.

Mr. Bard said, ''You said you want to work together, I'm going to try.'' Mr. Elder began: ''The background of this ---- ''

He was interrupted. A woman from a public relations firm was monitoring his remarks. ''David,'' she said. ''There's something that needs your attention.''

As they huddled in the lobby, Mr. Bard's son, David Bard, remarked, ''We weren't afraid to plunge a toilet or speak directly to the newspapers.''

Mr. Bard acknowledged that the place could be better run. Dr. Krauss noted that it had an occupancy rate of 65 percent last year while most city hotels were at 85 percent.

At his desk, Mr. Bard stuck some snapshots -- Marisa Tomei, the actress, Arthur Miller's children -- into a drawer. ''A normal, everyday New Yorker is proud of the Chelsea Hotel,'' he said. ''They're proud that sometimes, money isn't the only issue involved.''